


Dearly Beloved

by pianoforeplay



Category: Men With Brooms (2002)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-01-18
Updated: 2011-01-18
Packaged: 2017-10-14 21:04:13
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,831
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/153445
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pianoforeplay/pseuds/pianoforeplay
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Amy doesn't remember.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Dearly Beloved

She awakes with a sore back and a pounding headache. For all that Lennox likes to tell people that his couch is comfortable, Amy's always had the distinct feeling that he's never actually attempted to sleep on it himself. Though she has a feeling that the headache at least isn't his fault. Not this time anyway.

Lennox's living room is something of a familiar sight to her (especially from this particular angle), so she isn't as disoriented as she otherwise might've been. Usually she sleeps on the cushions with a few throw blankets and one of his spare pillows that never actually has a pillowcase on it and not on the pull-out mattress. But for some reason, on this particular morning, she's on the pull-out, something she realizes immediately if only because when she opens her eyes, she can see Lennox's poor excuse for window drapes instead of his poor excuse for a television set. It's still dark, she notices, and she squints to make out the time on the flashing Heineken clock on the wall.

5:23.

With a groan, she tries to push herself up - an achievement in itself given the way the sheets seem to keep her bound tightly, tangling around her waist and right ankle. Her brow furrows against the pain that immediately pulses in her temple with even the slightest movement, and it takes her a moment to realize that she is very nearly naked. In fact, the only piece of clothing she seems to still have on is her bra and even that, she notices after feeling behind her back with a panicked hand, is only hanging on by one lone clasp.

Panic quickly turns into confusion and then into a dawning, horrifying realization as she notices the man still lying fast asleep beside her, all the pieces sliding and clicking together in startling clarity despite the fact that the last thing she can remember is climbing into Neil's car and laying her head in Cutter's lap.

Oh, God.

:::

" _A toast_!" Lennox shouted over the din of the bar, his already half-empty bottle held high, and Amy automatically reached for her own in preparation. "A toast to the recently deceased," and here he was interrupted by laugher as Cutter tossed a french fry in Lennox's direction. "He was a good man, our Chris. Brave and wise and clever." The laughter overrode him again and he raised his voice to be heard over it. "Alright, alright. _Not_ so brave or wise or clever, but he _did_ once save a housecat from a burning trash bin, I remember that very clearly."

"I was _high_ ," Chris objected with a laugh, his hand curled around his own beer bottle. "On shit _you_ told me wasn't laced, I might add."

"You may have been chemically enhanced, my friend, but that doesn't make you any less of a hero."

"Especially considering you spent the next month and a half looking like a botched science project," Amy murmured against the rim of her bottle, and took a long drink. It was only her third of the night, but it was relatively early yet and she was in that pleasantly buzzed state where the words came easier and every joke was funny. And even if it _wasn't_ funny, there was still cause to laugh. Because Chris was getting married. To her sister.

And at that point, Amy wasn't letting herself even consider the alternative to laughing anymore.

Cutter gave her a quick glance, his face immediately flushing red at the memory, and Amy just laughed (and it sounded warm and genuine enough) as she nudged him with her elbow. Typically, that's the part Lennox liked to harp on the most when telling that particular story, how Chris had managed to singe off his eyebrows. Like everyone in Long Bay hadn't already noticed.

" _Just like_ ," Lennox quickly continued, hushing the table with a wave of his hand, "Just like only having one testicle doesn't make you less of a man, Chris." Cutter immediately let out a loud laugh and started to protest, but Lennox put up his hand to stop him and then pointed with one accusing finger. " _Not_ that it matters, because you're no longer a man, anyway."

"Yeah, you're a prisoner," Neil finished for him with a teasing smile in Cutter's direction and a tilt of his glass.

"You're a pri--" Lennox shot a glare at Neil. "Asshole. Ruined my toast," and he threw the hostage french fry at Neil's forehead.

It missed and hit Neil's prominent nose instead.

"Well, I think it's great," Eddie piped up after swallowing a drink of his own. "I mean, you and Julie have been together for, what, two years?"

"Three," Amy corrected him quietly, the neck of her beer bottle looking suddenly very interesting.

"Three years, yeah," Eddie continued, undaunted. "So, I think now's a good time. And I mean, she's good. She's great. Smart and pretty and--"

"Eddie, Coach isn't here. No need to say things we all know aren't true," Lennox said dryly, leaning back in his chair with his lit cigarette.

Amy's head snapped up at that. "What, I don't count?" she said with a quirk of a bitter smile, her eyes challenging. "I _am_ a Foley, you know. And she _is_ my sister."

Lennox nodded, swallowing another drink of his beer and then shook his head just as quickly. "You _are_ a Foley, yes. But, you're _different_."

"Different?"

"Different."

Amy raised an eyebrow and shifted to lean forward, hunching over the table, her bottle nestled protectively in the palm of her hand as she silently dared Lennox to continue.

"You don't even _like_ your sister, for one," Lennox pointed out. "Furthermore," he continued, gesturing vaguely with his hand, his cigarette nestled between two fingers, "everyone in your family is single-minded. With Julie it's her schooling, with your mom it's your family, with your dad it's curling." He paused a moment to take a pull off the cigarette and exhaled slowly, his lips still curved in a grin. "But _you_..."

Amy raised a single brow and a frown tugged at her lips as she waited for Lennox to continue. "But I'm..." she prompted when it seemed apparent he wasn't going to finish.

"Different." And his voice was calm, matter-of-fact and Amy knew that was the only explanation she was likely to get.

There was a silence at the table for a moment before Eddie cleared his throat. "Yeah, you like curling _and_ your family," he stated, raising his glass in a half-hearted toast and giving a nervous sort of laugh as everyone else slowly started to mumble their agreements.

Amy, however, wasn't backing down, her eyes unwavering from Lennox's as she leaned in to keep up the argument.

But then she felt a warm hand on the small of her back and turned to see Chris giving her a reassuring smile. It was warm and somehow understanding even though Amy knew full well that he _didn't_ understand and never would. Still, she couldn't help but return it, and let herself sink into the touch for just a second, wondering - not for the first time - how that touch would feel without the barrier of clothing between his hand and her skin.

Her gaze shifted back to Lennox almost accidentally and her smile faltered. His eyes were narrowed, glancing down to where Chris's hand disappeared behind Amy's back and then back to her face and he flicked his cigarette against the ashtray on the edge of the table. His lips moved then, his expression unflinching as he murmured something to himself that Amy didn't need to hear to understand.

Turning her head quickly, she pulled away from Cutter's touch and reached for a new bottle.

:::

She doesn't move, her heart and mind racing as she tries to think of some reason why she would be naked on Lennox's couch with Cutter (who is also, from what she can tell, undoubtedly naked), aside from the one that's _glaringly obvious_.

She remembers the bar, remembers beer after beer after beer, remembers drunken toasts and laughter and beating Chris in at least two games of pool. She remembers Lily showing up at some point to offer her congratulations and to drag Eddie home. She remembers Neil bitching about being the only one sober enough to drive and she thinks she remembers him smiling while he said it (but sometimes it's hard to tell with Neil). She's pretty sure she remembers Lennox stripping down to his boxers on the pool table and dancing to some Prince song, but that part's pretty hazy. She's afraid she might have joined him. She _thinks_ she remembers him offering his couch - this couch - once he was clothed again. Or maybe he only had his pants on, she can't be sure.

And she remembers the car ride, the feel of Chris' hand in her hair and the muffled voices of Lennox and Neil arguing in the front seat. She remembers the way he touched her so easily. And his smile.

But maybe not. Maybe she doesn't remember that part at all and it's really just a wishful thinking kind of thing. Or maybe it's an old memory. After all, she's been drunk in the back of a car with Cutter before. Many times. Though, usually it was after some fight he'd had with Julie and he only wanted her advice.

God, she feels sick.

:::

" _You don't have to be RICH to be my GIRL--_ "

"Jim, I swear to God, if you don't--"

" _Don't have to be COO-oo-ool--_ "

"Jim--"

" _To rule MY world--_ "

"I will turn this car around right now and dump you off at Stacey's, I'm not kidding."

Lennox's voice only grew louder, a feat he somehow managed even as he brought his bottle up to his lips, words muffled against it. " _AIN'T NO PAR-TIC-U-LAR SIGN I'M MORE COM-PAT-I-BLE WITH--_ "

" _JIM_." Three voices that time and Amy was somewhat surprised to realize that hers was one of them. And apparently it'd surprised Lennox enough to make him stop his attempts at singing, at least for the time being.

"What, we leave the bar and you people forget how to party or something?" Lennox asked, sounding suitably miffed.

"This is a small, tightly confined space," Neil reminded him and Amy flinched a little as they rode over a bump, swallowing back an uncomfortable lurch in her stomach.

"It's a _hearse_ ," Lennox protested.

"Exactly. Now show some respect for the dead."

Amy couldn't help it then and let out a snort of a laugh as she instinctively curled into the solid body next to her. She felt a warm hand pet her hair and smiled to herself, her own hand finding a resting spot low on Chris' stomach.

"Prince is _not_ disrespectful," Lennox argued, and even with her face pressed into Chris' sweater, Amy could tell that he was using his beer bottle to gesture passionately. "I mean, hell, he has that one song. That, that, uhm... that one that starts out with the sermon and shit."

" _Sermon_?"

"Yeah, yeah," Lennox insisted and Amy rolled her eyes and shifted in her seat, her hand unconsciously sliding a little lower down soft fabric.

"He's right," Chris spoke up, his words a little slurred, and Amy actually felt it more than she heard it, the deep rumble going straight through her. Instinctively, she pressed closer as he continued. "Dearly beloved... we are gathered here today--"

And immediately, Lennox joined in, sounding obnoxiously triumphant, "To get through this thing called life!"

Neil groaned. "That's not even a sermon, you know."

"Neil, my man," Lennox said, laughing good-naturedly, "You really need to get laid or something."

"I bury people for a living, Jim. I don't think you really want to know about my sex life."

There was a short silence as they all tried to figure it out if that had been a joke or not before Lennox's laugh shattered it. "Oh man, that is _disgusting_."

Amy felt herself start to shake with laughter again and her arm snaked around Chris' waist as she turned her face into his armpit. It occurred to her only peripherally that she was very nearly _in Chris' lap_. And he wasn't at all protesting.

In fact-- she lifted her head up a bit and smiled at him lazily, just to see if he would smile back.

He did.

Or actually, _they_ did.

Because there was more than one of him.

And that, she thought, was fair. More than one Chris. Plenty of him to go around, share the wealth and all that.

Or maybe a collect all four kind of thing.

That made her laugh again and she ducked back into Chris' body. Lennox and Neil were still arguing in the front seat, though the conversation had apparently shifted from the questionable sanctity of Prince to the questionable brilliance of Neil Diamond. Or maybe it was Neil Young. She didn't really care either way since all she could manage to concentrate on was the way Chris' hand curled against the back of her head and then slid it down to rest on her neck, gently guiding her to lay her head down in his lap.

Still giggling a little, she let herself stretch out on the backseat as much as she could manage, her head pillowed on Chris' thigh. If she moved just right, she could feel him, she knew. She wondered if he was hard, if he was even capable of getting hard, as drunk as he was. Feigning a stretch, she tilted her head back and then grinned as she felt and heard a low moan, the sound punctuated by a slight, involuntary upward roll of his hips.

The hand in her hair moved to touch her face, a single finger tracing her lips.

Her eyes drifted closed then simply because she couldn't keep them open anymore and she let out a contented sound, her hand moving slowly down Chris' leg, curling at the knee as she rested back against him and fell asleep.

:::

She fell asleep and woke up here and _fuck_ , why can't she remember more? She _wants_ to remember more. Even though she knows that it shouldn't have happened and won't ever happen again, she feels... well, she feels she's _owed_. If she's made the mistake, she should damn well be allowed to _remember it_. That would only seem fair.

Instead, all she has is _this_. Right now. Not even completely naked on Lennox's goddamn _fold-out couch_. Not exactly how she'd ever imagined it would be. And she _had_ imagined it. Many times.

She feels that she should savor it, though, and steals a glance at him. He's curled on his side facing her, lips slightly parted as he breathes slow and even. His eyelashes flutter against his cheeks and she briefly wonders what he's dreaming about before her eyes are drawn to his lips again. They look fuller than normal and she wonders if she caused it. She _must've_ kissed him last night and she unconsciously licks her lips in the hope of finding some remaining taste of him there. Unsurprisingly, she doesn't.

Her eyes wander lower, down his neck and collarbone and over his exposed chest, all the skin that last night was her playground. The sheet lies almost artfully low on his hips, the curve of muscle there exposed, and she's tempted to reach out and just slide it down a little lower to see where that very faint trail of hair leads.

Fuck, she wants to know what he felt like _in_ her.

And that's enough. She forces her eyes away to stare at the wall ahead of her, her stomach churning and eyes stinging. Taking a slow breath, she manages to disentangle herself from the sheets and reaches down to find her wayward clothing. Her fingers snag on a t-shirt (his) and a sweater (also his) before she finally manages to find her jeans. She dresses with silent speed and ignores the ever increasing pounding pain in her skull.

She's outside within minutes, the cool air immediately biting at her skin as she shrugs on her coat and hunches against the wind.

The decision is almost frighteningly easy and as she makes her way toward her mother's house, burrowing deeper into her jacket, she knows it's the right one. The only one. Julie won't be there, of course, but Amy will have to answer to her soon enough, will have to deal with the questions that Julie _always_ asks even though Julie would know the fucking answers herself if she'd ever just bother to go out with them in the first place. But Amy will tell her anyway because she always does. She'll explain as much as she can remember, might even bring up the pool table and the car ride.

But not this. Because it's only fair that if Amy can't remember what happened, then it's her non-memory to keep.

 **end.**

**Author's Note:**

> Written for misspamela. Thank you to my betas: the_antichris, who taught me the fine art of contrast and also a gave me an interesting lesson in dashes; and malnpudl, who put up with draft after draft of this bastard, offered countless suggestions regarding imagery, POV and tenses and, ultimately, made this even halfway readable. Initially posted [here](http://pianoforeplay.livejournal.com/10896.html) on 8/03/2006.


End file.
